


Once Bitten...

by Sukuangtou



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, Character Death, Deadpool - Freeform, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Peter Parker - Freeform, Spider-Man - Freeform, Spideypool - Freeform, Wade Wilson - Freeform, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 20:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3263561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sukuangtou/pseuds/Sukuangtou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was going to happen eventually...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Once Bitten...

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own anything.

An eerie darkness had settled over the city, the great looming skyscrapers that once littered the sky now silent black statues against the clear night overhead. In the distance, the moon stretched out a pathetic light – The blood-less rays only just kissing the streets, alleyways, roads and concrete walls of New York. Occasionally, the quiet was broken by a gargle, or a crackle, or a howl, usually followed by a chaos of screams and cries and noise. Nothing understandable, just noise. At some point a dog barked, and an explosion of shrieks echoed throughout the area, running feet and thumps trailing after. A whimper followed soon after.

If anything had a brain, it would realise staying silent meant staying alive. 

Peter had figured this out a long time ago, back in the early weeks of the breakout. He had been an idiot and had found himself trapped in a dead-end with broken web-shooters. Of course, Wade had gone ballistic when he got home, screaming loud enough to raise the dead from their graves. They moved to a new location after that, high up in one of the still standing skyscrapers where they both could leave via the windows and booby-trap the floors below. He had left that to Wade, trusting that the other would not create any elaborate scheme which could blow out half the building. The new height also meant that could watch out for any approaching mobs.

Housing was one thing, food was another. At first they had tried to stock up on whatever they could find – tin-food, random pieces of almost-good fruit, occasionally tacos, much to Wade’s delight. However, after a while they began bulk-robbing shops and supermarkets (it wasn’t as if anyone was there to begin with), hoarding it on the level above their floor. They always went together, keeping as quiet as physically possible (which, for Wade, was a miracle in itself) and watching each other’s backs. 

That was how Peter found himself in this situation. The night before Wade had taken a pretty hard blow from a mob, enough for one arm and half a torso to be lost before Peter had managed to swing them away. The mercenary was bleeding heavily by the time he had got then to their ‘home’ and no matter how much Peter tried to stem the flow, the dark ooze kept spilling over the carpet and blankets and his shaking hands. Knowing there were some bandages in their old flat left for emergencies, and that the smell of fresh blood could attract unwanted guests even from their position in the skyscraper, he had slipped on his costume. Peter carefully placed Wade inside a lockable room beneath a small mound of slowly reddening covers, sliding the key under the door before leaving. He had noted the chilliness of the night, and had mildly wondered if the things below could feel it. He had found the bandages easily, tucking them into his costume pocket and had been turning to leave when he had been sprung upon. Three of them – all teeth and nails and rolling eyes – slashing and snapping at his body and he had hardly made it away with his limbs still attached.

But not without a bite. 

It was above his hip, neatly tucked under his ribs like a little decorative ribbon on his suit. It wasn’t too deep, but it was deep enough that a slow stinging sensation radiated in the area, dribbles of blood tickling his skin under the material. Once sure he was at a safe enough distance from any of those...creatures…Peter removed his mask, falling to his knees in some dirty backstreet he vaguely recognised as an old drug pick-up point he used to watch on his rounds. One arm snaked around his middle, a shivering hand lightly feeling the wound. Letting out a long breath, causing white wispy fog to dance around him, he physically drooped, curling in on himself as he demanded the shaking to stop. 

_Not this, not now, not this._

Rocking, he whispered the chant over and over; eyes squeezed shut as the nature of the situation wiggled up his spine. This was it. This was his end. After all he had worked for, Peter Parker was going to become a mindless shell of who he had strived to be. He was gone, and there was not a single goddamn thing he could do about it. His thoughts trickled to Aunt May, safely protected behind the concrete walls ten miles from the city. He had taken her there, and she had made him promise to stay alive. 

_I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry._

That was how Deadpool had found him, curled into a ball on his knees, rocking and weeping and mumbling under his breathe, mask crumpling in his grip. 

“Thank the rubber ducks, Petey! I thought you had abandoned me!” Jumping from the roof he was perched on, he strode over to the distressed hero, “I woke up and you weren’t there and the boxes were going nuts and-“ He paused, leaning down to cup the youngers face, noting the tear-stained features, “Baby Boy, I don’t die, remember? You don’t need to cry-”Peter flung himself on Wade, wrapping his arms around the mercenary’s neck. Deadpool copied the action, holding him close as he noted the wetness on his shoulder seeping into the material of his costume.  
“I’m sorry,” Peter whispered, voice hoarse, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry I…I didn’t mean…” He trailed off, swallowing hard before whipping out of the hold and grabbing Wade’s face, removing the mask and forcing him to stare him in the eyes. “You must look after her, don’t let anything happen to her, I could never forgive you if she-“  
“Who?” Wade was thoroughly confused now, taking the young man’s hands into his own large ones, “What’s wrong Baby Boy?”  
“Aunt May,” Peter answered, swallowing again, “Please, look after her, for me?”  
“You know I will,” Wade frowned, confused emotions beginning to ebb into frustration, “What’s brought this on? Are you leaving? Is that it? What, were you just planning on up and leaving me while I was too out to know what the hell was going on? I swear Petey, that’s pretty low and I’ve seen some low moves in my-” Peter snatched his hand and brought it to the now no longer bleeding wound, dark orbs watching as Wade’s features become unreadable. Now it was the mercenary’s turn to swallow, as he dragged his eyes up to Peters. The younger crumpled, collapsing into Wade’s arms.  
“I’m sorry, I tried, they snuck up on me, I’m sorry, I should have noticed them.” Wade remained silent, staring at the ground over the hero’s shoulder. They stayed quiet, and in the distance a lone gargling spit-filled mouth let out a weird rumble.  
“I’ll look after her,” Deadpool finally murmured, holding Peter closer, “She will be ok, I’ll see to it.” He peered down at Peter, who blinked up at him with relief, a tiny smile tickling his mouth.  
“Thank you.”  
“Let’s go home.”  
“I don’t know how long I have-”  
“Home.” With ease, the older lifted Peter from his feet, before turning and silently navigating the streets and roofs back to their skyscraper, quietly asking the curled-up man in his arms to use his webs when he couldn’t climb the taller buildings to reach their window. Taking them carefully into their apartment, he settled the young man on his feet and led him over to their room, chucking the soiled in the corner in favour of some fresh ones. Sitting Peter down, Wade went into their makeshift kitchen, sorting water to boil and grabbing a hot chocolate mix he had sneaked into their supplies when they moved location – Hey, you never know. Once the warm mix was ready, and happily poured in Pete’s favourite mug, he went back to their room. Peter glanced up at him from a notepad, a few envelopes sitting on the bed next to him. Handing him the mug, Peter sipped it gladly.  
“Wade?” His voice was small, eyes kept downwards as said man sat down beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight, “Can…Can you do me a favour?” Deadpool lent his head against the other’s shoulder in silent encouragement to continue talking. Peter handed him the envelopes, both titled with the younger’s jittery writing:  
_For Aunt May_  
_For Wade_  
“Can you give Aunt May hers, and only open yours when I’m…gone?” His eyes were pleading, almost begging Wade to give him this. The mercenary took them, placing them inside his suit where he kept his small knives.  
“Sure.” They cuddled for a while, Peter drinking the last of his hot chocolate and Wade leaning his head against the hero’s heart, listening to the steady thumps. Putting the mug onto the floor, Peter laid down, pulling Wade with him, and turned to face the elder.  
“Do what you like with me…When I’m gone, that is. Kill me if you wish, but don’t let me hurt anyone,” Wade snuggled into his hair, nodding, before smirking.  
“Can I dress you up as sexy Dorothy? Oh, then I could be the twister and sweep you off your feet!” The other’s laugh sent a shiver down his spine, a disgusting feeling worming around in his stomach as time ticked away at them.  
“As long as you make sure no wicked witch sweeps me away, knock yourself out.” His gentle smile turned into a grimace, a hand sneaking down to the bite, “Ow.”  
“Shh,” Removing the hand and interlocking their fingers, Wade pulled them closer, flinching when Peter began to grind his teeth, “It’s ok, I got you, it’s ok.”  
“I love you,” Came a whimper into his chest, and he froze, the annoying worming sensation rising to his throat, he swallowed.  
“Yeah, Baby Boy, I love you too.”  
They stayed like that, Wade fluttering kisses over Peter’s hair, cheeks, lips, while Peter gripped onto the material of his costume, responses beginning to slow, voice becoming distant. His hand began to slowly unclench, falling limp on the bed in the little space between them. Then:  
“Petey?” Wade whispered as a jolt suddenly shook the youngers body, “Baby Boy?” Pulling away, he glanced down at Peter’s eyes, now staring blankly ahead, mouth gasping and gaping horribly. A dribble of saliva slopped down the corner of his mouth and puddled on the pillow. He wiped it away, releasing his hold as the former hero’s body began to shake and sat up. A low gargle left Peter’s mouth, head twisting every which way as if possessed.

Maybe he was. 

Standing, he walked over to his duffle bag and pulled out something Peter had given him. It was a set of leather and metal straps, including handcuffs, with more cushioned areas where they wrapped around the skin. The former hero had brought them after first being taken over by Venom, having been horrified at the destruction he had caused. With these, Wade had been able to stop Peter from escaping when he was taken over a second time, which made removing Venom a hell of a lot easier. Walking back to the bed, he began carefully tying them into place, attaching one around Peter’s neck, placing the other end to the metal leg of the bed – This would keep unwanted biting under control.  
The younger’s head snapped up to him, hazel eyes gone, and growled, and teeth reaching out to take a chunk from Wade. The horrible feeling that had followed the mercenary home finally raised from his stomach, catching in his throat, the boxes going crazy inside his head. 

“Oh Baby Boy, I’m sorry,” Holding out an arm for Peter to sniff, he didn’t even flinch when those hungry teeth sunk into his flesh and costume, “Oh Baby Boy…”

_Dear Aunt May,_  
I don’t want you to worry Aunt May about what will happen to me, promise me you won’t. I want you to protect and look after yourself in any way you can. Wade will be there when you need him, and don’t ever fear to go to him for help – You are never a bother, despite what you think, so let him help you.  
As for me, I do not know what will happen, but I want you to know that I am with Uncle Ben now, and maybe my parents. I sorry for breaking my promise to you, and I’m sorry for not seeing you again before I was bitten, but I love you and you must only let this make you stronger – Live for me and survive.  
I love you.  
Peter. 

_Dear Wade._  
I’m sorry. I broke my promise, didn’t I? But I need to tell you of how proud I am, of how you let me stay out here, away from the quarantine zones, to help the survivors and the people looking for safety. I’m proud of how serious you were and how brave you were when I needed you. I’m proud of how you look after Aunt May, and how you two have bonded.  
Look after yourself, for me. Don’t let those boxes get to you – Hey, if I feel as if I’ve known you enough to entrust my own aunt to you, you must be something good. Eat tacos and dance as much as you wish, just feel happy and don’t get down. Times may get hard, but I will always be with you, even if you cannot see me.  
I love you.  
Your Baby Boy,  
Peter. 

Three years passed. Slowly, but they passed. Wade fell into a weird little routine from their base in the skyscraper. He didn’t know why he had stayed there, but he did. Maybe it was Peter, who seemed to be seeing him less as food and more as…Owner? Guardian? He still ate at him, mind you, and would practically pounce on him if Deadpool so much as missed his feeding time, but over the last few months he had become more reserved, less frantic at his ripping of flesh. Wade gave him animal meat, or let Peter resort to some kind of weird cannibalism with fellow creatures if he was desperate, but only when his skin was acting up. The slumped features remained the same, the dead eyes gazing nowhere and everywhere, mouth almost permanently open. Wade had a long time ago managed to get him out of the Spider-Man suit, which he hung up with the mask inside a wardrobe in the lockable bedroom he slept in. Now Peter wore mainly pyjamas, and although he was free to meander between the bathroom, kitchen and living room, still had the leg and arm straps on. 

Aunt May didn’t know. He had created a fake grave, with a headstone, and had taken her there a few days after Peter’s ‘death’. She had cried, he may have too, and she promised to survive for both of them. They would meet regularly at one o’clock in the morning on the first Monday of the month in secret and exchange pleasantries. He would tell her how he was doing, and how things were in the city, while she explained what the scientists and army were up to in the quarantine zone. Apparently, they were studying the long-term effects on an infected with constant interaction with humans – It wasn’t going well. 

Peter, his Baby Boy, was oblivious to it all, and would moan and groan when Wade told him all about it during his feed. Once he had stopped to stare blankly at the mercenary when he informed him that his aunt had caught sick, though it only lasted a moment. Peter paid no attention later when Wade told him she was better. 

By some dumb luck, Deadpool had managed to get some kind of television signal (having raided a nearby house and squealing when he found a child’s Hello Kitty TV set). It was stuck on kiddies TV, with random shows being aired at various times of the day and a presenter who was probably dead grinning and chatting to a puppet in between shows. He had grown particularly fond of a cartoon with a man dressed as a bat who stopped crime in a fictional city. Unfortunately for him, the creator had been eaten alive, so the series remained on a constant cliff-hanger.  
It was when Wade was watching this particular show when it happened. Peter had toddled into the room from the kitchen, head turning from side to side and grunted. The mercenary hadn’t even acknowledged the former hero, and continued to stare intently at the screen. Peter looked at him and grunted again. Nothing. Then…

“Vvvw….Vw-ah-ed.”


End file.
